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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28500708">Blind trust</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/VosVidemus/pseuds/VosVidemus'>VosVidemus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Hurt/Comfort, I genuinely don’t know what to tag this, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:54:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,680</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28500708</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/VosVidemus/pseuds/VosVidemus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You don’t understand just how lucky he is,” Viktor says, removing chunks of wires and metal from Bryce’s head.</p><p>“He should have been fried. Hell, his soft is all over the place, scrambled and in pieces. It’s a miracle he didn’t keel over the second he called you.” </p><p>“Yeah, Vik, but how’s he lookin’?” </p><p>Viktor sighs. “Netwatch tech is above my pay grade. I can do a rough patch job on some things but he’s basically scrap metal until I can get the necessary parts. Might need a couple new organs too, we’ll see.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Male V/Bryce Mosley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I just love bastard netwatch man and i will forever be mad that he’s only in one mission and we can’t bang him </p><p>Sorry to y’all waiting for part 3 of my sin series lmao this is what you get instead</p><p>Sorry for any mistakes too because I do bare minimum editing and write/post at 2-3am</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>V watches Johnny drums his fingers on his thighs, staring out the car window and out into the city. Neon lights filter into the car, illuminating it with reds and blues. He slows to a stop at a red light as his phone rings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unknown number. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You gonna answer that?” Johnny asks when V lets it ring one too many times. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V thinks for a moment before picking up. “Hello?” He asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence and labored breathing. V almost hangs up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s V, right?” The voice asks, strained, familiar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Who is this?” The light turns green and V starts driving, turning right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man on the other end coughs. “Remember? Bryce. From the GIM,” he says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It takes a few seconds, but V does remember. Bryce, the Netwatch bastard that sure, was technically telling the truth about the Voodoo Boys virus, but also took the opportunity to spike V with his own to fry most of the Voodoo netrunners. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I remember,” he says, voice more venomous than he intended. “Any reason you’re calling me now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a moment of silence and then glass breaking. “I — I’m in a bit of trouble.” There’s a heavy thud and a pained groan. “No Tell Motel, room 106. Please...” The line goes silent and V grips the steering wheel tighter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you have something to say, say it,” he says to Johnny. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny stares at him. “You going or not? Sounds like it’s serious.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V continues driving straight for a few moments, mind racing. He curses and makes a sharp u-turn, speeding to the motel. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>V speed walks through the lobby and finds the room half way down the hall. He knocks on the door, knocking again when there’s no response. He waits a few more seconds. “You in there?” V asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny appears, leaning against the grimy walls. “Got a bad feeling about this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V hums. “You and me both.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pushes on the door, sighing when it doesn’t budge. He sticks his fingers into the door jamb, prying it open with little effort. V curses as his eyes land on a body laying face down. He runs over and does a scan. It was Bryce, still alive. V carefully flips him over, grimacing when most of his shirt was stained with blood, an arm was mangled and the cyberware on his head was cracked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No time to waste, V, if you’re gonna do something then you gotta move, and fast,” Johnny says, crouching down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know!” V gently shakes Bryce, feeling relief flood over him when the agent’s eyes slowly open. “Great, you’re still here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bryce gives V a weak smile. “Told you we’d meet again,” he whispers softly. Too softly. His eyes flutter closed and V’s heart rate starts picking up. He grabs a hold of Bryce’s good arm and drapes it over his shoulders, half carrying half dragging Bryce out of the motel and into his car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey man, stick with me here, you’re gonna be alright,” V says, shaking Bryce when he places the netrunner in his car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bryce stirs and groans, still clutching his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Bryce — it’s Bryce, right?” V asks, leaning down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small nod. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bryce opens his eyes and turns to look at V, breathing heavily and still half delirious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, just stay awake, you’re gonna be fine. Taking you to a ripper,” V says. He closes the passenger side door and into the driver’s seat, peeling out of the driveway, speeding the short distance to Viktor’s clinic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He needs Trauma,” Johnny says, appearing in the back seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If he called me over Trauma then he must be in some deep shit,” V mutters, laser focused on the road and the shortest path to Vik’s, occasionally glancing over to Bryce to make sure he was still alive. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How much of you is cybernetic?” V asks when Bryce’s eyes close for longer than a few seconds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quite a bit,” Bryce says after a few seconds, quiet, doing his best not to use up all his energy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V scoffs. “Vague as ever. Just... stay with me, we’ll be there in a couple minutes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>V sighs, taking a sip of his coffee while he watches Viktor go to work, frowning and shaking his head every so often. He runs a diagnostic and closes up the stab wound on Bryce’s side first before removing his broken arm, muttering something about being unable to fix it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t understand just how lucky he is,” Viktor says, removing chunks of wires and metal from Bryce’s head. “He should have been fried. Hell, his soft is all over the place, scrambled and in pieces. It’s a miracle he didn’t keel over the second he called you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Vik, but how’s he lookin’?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor sighs. “Netwatch tech is above my pay grade. I can do a rough patch job on some things but he’s basically scrap metal until I can get the necessary parts. Might need a couple new organs too, we’ll see.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V lets out a deep sigh and stands up, feeling drained from the core. “Thanks, Vik. I’ll pay you for this in a couple.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor shakes his head. “You’re not gonna pay anything, he is.” He gestures to Bryce on the chair. “Once he can stand, you’re taking him somewhere else unless it’s for a check up. Don’t need Netwatch poking around here, got it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V nods. “Got it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Viktor sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’ve got a habit of picking up strays.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>A couple hours later, Bryce stirs and groans. “Where am I?” He asks, almost knocking over one of Viktor’s trays. His eyes open and he stares at his left arm, replaced with some random spare Vik had lying around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At a ripper,” V answers, standing up from his chair. “Barely got here in time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bryce meets V’s eyes for a bit and looks around, still barely conscious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, let’s get you out of here. Vik’s done all he can for now,” V says quietly. He helps Bryce sit up and pushes a wheelchair close. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vik, the ripper that runs this joint. Can you stand?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can barely keep my eyes open.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you got fucked up good. Here,” V swings Bryce’s arm over his shoulder and pulls him out of the chair and into a wheelchair, careful not to drop him or tear his stitches. “Fuck, you’re heavier than you look.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bryce huffs and stares at his temporary arm again, clenching and unclenching his fist. “We’re we going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My apartment.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>YEEHAW I think I got an idea of where I want this fic to go finally so hopefully I can do that</p>
<p>This has been sitting in my folder for so long but I because I didn’t know what the hell to do but here we are </p>
<p>As always everything I do is done between the hours of 11pm and 3am so shit might be wacked because I just don’t have the brainpower to proofread properly</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“V,” Bryce calls out, his voice is hoarse, having just woken up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The merc looks up from a screamsheet, giving him a once-over. A couple days had passed, filled with mostly bed rest, and he definitely looks a lot better. Vik did the best he could with the materials and knowledge he had, being rather difficult with NetWatch tech. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bryce clears his throat. “Thank you,” he says, soft. Genuine. He was laying down on V’s bed, staring at him with an unreadable expression. He’s still but flexes his fingers on his scrap arm. It had to feel wrong, like it doesn’t fit. Like you’re wearing something too tight. V understood the feeling all too well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For what?” V asks. He tosses the screamsheet onto the coffee table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bryce chuckles. “For saving me back there. For trusting me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V raises an eyebrow. “You’re still on thin ice. Mind tellin’ me what the hell you got yourself into?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bryce groans and tries to sit up. “Long story short, Netwatch used me as bait.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bait?” V echoes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Johnny phases into view, leaning back on V’s couch. “Isn’t it obvious? What was the one thing that got you two idiots to meet?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Voodoo boys,” Bryce answers. Johnny gives V a smug grin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about them?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Netwatch did to me what the VDBs tried to do to you, turned me into bait. A bomb.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It clicked together. “But you survived.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bryce chuckles dryly and his expression hardens. “Somehow.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You feelin’ any better?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bryce flexes his fingers again, shrugging. “Still feel like I got chunks missing. Like I’m just... incomplete. Head’s spinning, mind’s scrambled.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V hums. “Yeah, Vik said you’re basically scrap metal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Feel like it too.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Silence falls over them for a while. V stays quiet, thinking, ignoring Johnny as he lights up his second cigarette in three minutes as his gaze is locked onto V. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V sits up straight and looks over to Bryce, curiosity tugging at him. “So you got spiked with something?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bryce nods slowly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why’d they use you as bait?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bryce groans and lifts his good arm up to cover his eyes when sunlight hits his face, filtering in through the window. “Don’t know. Maybe they saw me as a loose end. Thought I was compromised, wanted to get rid of me, a whole list of reasons.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V reaches over and closes the shutters. “Never did anything that would give them a reason?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bryce shakes his head. “I was a loyal pawn, followed their orders without questions, or objections. Like a fool.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V thinks for a moment. “Maybe it wasn’t supposed to kill you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm. Maybe not, but Placide almost did.” Bryce’s tone shifts, turning icy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V stands up from the couch and stretches, turning the TV on. He flips through the channels, stopping at an old movie, a western. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bryce hums in content and smiles softly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Getting smashed up like that’s definitely gonna fuck some things up. Gonna go out for a few, don’t break anything,” V says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Couldn’t even if I wanted to.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V says a quiet goodbye and leaves his apartment, closing and locking the door behind him. He sighs heavily and meets Johnny by the railings where he phased into view.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So why would Netwatch want to cut out one of their own?” He asks, looking at V when he gets closer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hell should I know? Maybe they were just desperate to get rid of the Voodoo’s,” V mutters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right... But then the next question is if it worked. Placide survived because you didn’t kill him back in the chapel. Doubt Netwatch would have been so merciful if they were willing to cook one of their own for that cranky bastard.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The rich and powerful are always prepared to throw their own under the bus...” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Johnny nods in agreement. “I’d keep my guard up around him if I were you. Something about this stinks.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>V returns to his apartment a while later, food and some medicine in tow. The door slides open and shut and V looks around. Bryce is asleep, still on the bed, and Nibbles was playing with the leaky faucet. He sets the bowl of wontons on the desk and goes to put more food in Nibbles’ bowl. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bryce stirs and breathes deeply, turning to look at V. “Where’d you run off to?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Picked up some parts for Vik. For you.” V tosses the wrapper in the trash can and grabs the wontons from the table. “Here, figured you should eat some actual food.” V places the bowl on the bed and helps Bryce sit up, propping up the pillow against his back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Feelin’ any better?” V asks, taking off the plastic lid to the bowl. He hands it to Bryce alongside a fork.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t know. Feel like I can’t breathe.” Bryce takes the bowl from V and sets it down onto his lap, staring at his hands. “I’m... I don’t know.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Netwatch fuck up your systems that bad?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bryce takes a deep breath and sighs. “Like your ripper said, I’m scrap metal. Can’t dive into the net anymore, can’t use my implants.” He pauses and lets out a dry laugh. “Half dead.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V stays silent for a moment as he runs a quick scan, on Bryce. He makes a face when he sees more failures than things actually functional. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Status; undetermined.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, eat something. You’ll feel better,” V gives him a reassuring smile and hands Bryce the fork. “Gonna take you to see Vik again later, get that arm of yours back.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you. Again.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V stares at Bryce with a sort of stunned silence, watching as the older man stabs a wonton with the fork. He looks exhausted, vulnerable, like he could die any day. V knew the feeling all too well. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“V?” Bryce’s voice snaps V back into reality. “Are you alright?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V awkwardly clears his throat and nods. “Yeah, jus’ thinkin’. And quit thankin’ me, just did what any decent person would do.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bryce gives him a lazy smile. “Guess that makes you a decent person.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V sputters, face flushed. “Shut up! Just eat so I can take you to Vik’s.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bryce ate as much as he could without getting sick and V helps him down to the garage and into his car. He drives to Viktor’s clinic in silence, eyeing Bryce every so often. The agent’s quiet, clearly deep in thought. His eyes flicker, glowing red before burning out, fading back to their icy blue. He grimaces and turns to face the window. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The drive is short and with Misty’s assistance, they get Bryce down into the clinic and onto the chair as Viktor swivels over. He pulls a tray to the chair and stands. “Doin’ any better?” Viktor asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bryce groans and turns his head to avoid staring at the bright lights overhead. “Still don’t feel right.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Viktor raises an eyebrow and hums but says nothing. He tells V to jack him into his systems and Viktor places his hands on Bryce’s temporary arm. “Should thank V. Wouldn’t be able to do half as much if he didn’t get the right materials.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bryce opens his mouth and V quickly interjects, plugging the link into the side of V’s head. “Oh shut up, you’ve thanked me enough already.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Viktor chuckles and does a quick twist-pull movement, removing the temporary arm he’d given Bryce before. “Now, again, Netwatch tech is above my pay grade. Hell, don’t think there’s any ripper out there that knows what they have brewing,” Viktor says. He places the arm on the tray and gives it a gentle kick, pushing it away. “Did the best I could. Most of it is guesswork, but should hopefully work alright.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bryce scoffs. “Doubt I can feel any worse.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ripper hums and steps aside, going further into his clinic. He returns with Bryce’s arm, mostly repaired. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V gives Viktor some space and joins Misty by the entrance. He sits down on one of the steps next to her and crosses his arms on top of his knees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something the matter?” Misty asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V shrugs. “Not really sure what to think about all this. ‘Bout him — Bryce.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I get what you mean,” Misty says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What uhh… what do you pick up from him?” V asks. “Is that the right term?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Misty chuckles. “Don’t worry, I get what you mean. As for our guest, I feel as if he’s lost himself. Doesn’t know who he is anymore.” She turns to face him, solemn. “Something’s missing.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The conversation had stopped after that and V falls quiet, dozing off every so often. He lets his eyes fall shut and his shoulders relax, focusing on the ambient humming of the electrical lights overhead and the quiet words of the newscasters coming from the monitor on his table. He feels himself slipping, on the verge of sleep when a loud pop and breaking glass startle V awake, like being splashed with cold water. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He scrambles onto his feet and rushes towards Bryce, on the floor and clutching his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell happened?” V asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Viktor groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Started pokin’ around his soft. Guess he didn’t like that very much and fried my systems.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V winces. “Fuck, Vik, I’m sorry.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ripper shakes his head. “Not your fault kid, just… get him outta here. Need to clean this up and see what I can salvage. He’s good to go for now.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V doesn’t protest and helps Bryce up off the floor and out of Viktor’s clinic. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hi I have a <a href="https://discord.gg/Yjc2cuSZ5y">discord server</a></p>
<p>And my tumblr is @vos-videmus</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Listen if the game doesn’t explain how Misty got V to their apartment on a wheelchair then I don’t have to explain it either </p><p>My tumblr is @second-conflict and my <a href="https://discord.gg/Yjc2cuSZ5y">server</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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